Saturday, November 30, 2002
I am home. Yippee.
Happy 2nd Night of Chanukah!
I hope that all of you out there who celebrate Chanukah are getting glorious gifts. So far I have received money (always good) from a number of family members, some deliciously comfy clothes from my Bubbie (whose uncanny fashion sense remains supreme), and two new CDs,
these being 'Chrome' by The Catherine Wheel and 'Standards' by The Alarm. The Catherine Wheel site link is up on the side. I'll stick The Alarm link up there as soon as I find it. Which will be... um, sometime in the eventual future. You know how it is.
I'm listening to 'Chrome' right now as we speak (so to speak). It's pretty dern good so far, but I'm not sure that I like it better than the other one I have (that being 'Wishville', their newest CD). I haven't listened to 'Standards' yet, I'll let you know if I like it when I do.
I have found a fun site with fun games on it. It is Spiky Thing. The web design amuses me. I could click on those little blocks all day long and watch them shoop back and forth. Hither and thither. And such. Anywho, go to the games section for a good time. Watch out though, Kickups is terribly frustrating if your reflexes are bad (mine are). The Blobs game is the one I like the best, it's so simple but so horrendously addictive and so oddly pleasing visually. But the music on it might get a little annoying if that's not your thing.
It was snowing when we flew out on Wednesday, and pretty much all of the snow is gone now. I am disappointed. I am not aware of the forecast, but I retain hopes for a largish storm Sunday night that will close the schools on Monday. Please?
I really, really, really don't want to do homework tomorrow. Sigh. Alas. But I must.
I get a kick out of X Ray telescope photography. It looks fairly cool and promising in the way of scientific advances. Yes, indeedy.
Not much else to say right now. Perhaps I shall speak with you all later. I do believe I must go now to check my meowmail.
Thursday, November 28, 2002
Greetings from Michigan!
Yes, here I am. The plane got off the ground just fine, even with the snow. We only had a 5 minute delay to de-ice, and there was no precipitation at all on the other end, so all was well.
The Lions/Patriots game was today. Sigh. Well, we made it interesting. The frustrating thing is that there were so many plays where we could have done so many good things... interceptions we could have followed up on, and the like. There was a glorious blocked kick that we could have really done wonders with, but after the block we settled back into our usual mediocracy.
I do believe that I was the only person there wearing a John Jett jersey. Yeah punter!
Jason Hanson (the kicker) became the Lion's all-time top scorer with this game, so that was very nice, three cheers for him, etc. Appropriately enough, all of our points today came from him. Great big line of Conga-Rats for Jason Hanson!
Our seats were pretty good. We were near the end zone but we were also very, very close to the field. So there was much to be seen. It was my first time in Ford Field (the Lions' new stadium... they played in the Silver Dome before). It was pretty dern nice, and the field looked like real grass even though it wasn't, which is really quite a magnificent feat of astroturf engineering.
We were seated directly in front of a group of rowdy Canadians, come over the river for the occasion. They were loud and excitable. We were seated directly behind a large family/group of friends, which included two brothers, each of whose girth was reminiscent of the Behemoth. The women of this group were especially vocal, including one woman who kept on chanting "Char-lie Batch! Char-lie Batch! We want Batch!", evidently wishing to express the true depths of her reservations about the current quarterback, Joey Harrington, who did not have a stellar first half (to put it somewhat mildly).
A gentleman a few rows back from us had apparently had a little too much to drink, because very early in the game (it was still the first quarter) he began to throw up. And throw up. And throw up. It was endless. Truly a spectacle. He threw up all over the stairs between the rows (thank cats for the people in his row he was on the aisle). It ended up going down about 6 rows before it stopped. They put some sawdust down and people using the stairs just did their best to avoid it. Yuck. The evils of the bottle.
For the traditional stadium luncheon, my father consumed a foot-long chili-covered Coney dog, which was utterly disgusting. Worse, my brother had a foot-long corn dog on a stick. I had asked them to get me 'a normal-sized' hot dog, and they returned with what looked suspiciously like a Bratwurst on a bun. I tried it rather tentatively, but it tasted like a normal hot dog, so I ate most of it. Quoiever.
Um... hm, what else? Probably the most depressing part of the game was when Tedy Bruschi intercepted the ball and ran it in for a touchdown. I mean, come on. Bruschi? It was unfortunate.
To give the fans credit, however, they didn't really get discouraged until about half-way through the last quarter, which takes a lot of heart and dedication to the team. But you know, we really could have come back at some point. Alas, we did not.
The teams were both playing today in their 'old school' uniforms. From the 50s, I think. The Lions had unstriped silver pants, blue socks, blue jerseys, and silver helmets with a blue stripe and no Lion on the sides. Elegant. The Pats had red jerseys, white striped pants, and white helmets with the old 'Pat the Patriot' logo on them.
The halftime show was Vanessa Carlton and Bon Jovi. Vanessa Carlton was just pathetic. I mean, she tried to be all sweet and whatnot, and she had some little girl run up on stage and put a bunch of roses on her piano at the end of her performance, but it really just wasn't the right sort of thing to do in a hardcore football crowd. No one was much interested.
Bon Jovi came across better, because he was louder and more animated. But they got this ridiculous little mini-crowd out around his stage, so that on TV it would look like there were people all around the stage, but it was just a few people deep, and it was rather sad and pathetic.
They set off some fireworks during his performace, which is not a good idea in a domed stadium, since those things put out a lot of smoke, and in a dome there's no where for it to go. So there was a fairly dense haze over the stadium for much of the second half, and many fans with more delicate constitutions were seized with fits of coughing and eye-watering.
Mike McMahon got in there for a couple of plays, which made me kind of happy. Yeah, let the man play a little. It certainly can't hurt. Like Powderpuff, you know, let everyone play a little. He did OK, nothing spectacular, but I don't think he screwed us over in any particular way. I was pleased.
Detmer didn't get in at all, but then again, that's to be expected. We all fondly recall his 7-interception game last season.
Marty Mornhinweg is the coach, and in case you are uninformed, he is rather out of favor in Detroit recently. You see, a few games ago, the game went into overtime. He won the coin toss. He chose to kick off. The other team scored. WHAT WAS HE THINKING?? In football, in overtime, it's a one-score game. Whoever scores first, wins. So why, why, WHY did he give the other team the ball???
No one knows. Everyone is pissed. There was a large sign that said 'Marty--Gone with the Wind'. People were not too pleased with him.
I must run, Thanksgiving dinner is on the table!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and happy first night of Chanukah tomorrow!
Sunday, November 24, 2002
Hum de dum dum dum. Today was a rather normal day.
I slept a great deal, since I have not done so lately, and sleep is ever so important, you know. Yes indeed.
Then I went to the mall to get my glasses righted. They took something of a beating yesterday during the game, probably from the Behemoth (the Behemoth being the Marblehead noseguard- a girl of truly astonishing proportions, in that she possessed a most prodigious girth). Anyways, they were pretty crooked, and I was starting to get rather seasick from seeing everything at a bizarre angle. I also kept on knocking into chairs and the edges of walls and things, since my visual field was skewed.
The mall boasted the only open optometrist for miles around (that being Lenscrafters), so it was necessary to go there. My glasses were fixed there. While there, my mother and myself were also treated to the Tale of Julie.
Julie was apparently an employee at Lenscrafters who was evil. Early in our visit, she came charging into the store, announcing, "I'm on break! I'm not here! Just act like I'm not in the store!" A bit later, another woman came up to the man repairing my glasses and angrily hissed, "That Julie just lost us two customers! She never does her work!" and the man testily replied, "I know, Julie's always on break." Quite a bit of Lenscrafters drama.
Then we bought a gel candle at one of those little cart things in the mall, and it was quite pricey. But it was a Chanukah present for some of our family that we will be seeing shortly, since Chanukah is right after Thanksgiving this year. Insanity.
Anywho, the man running the cart was Israeli! We realized this when we were examining the merchandise, and my mother saw some of his store notes or business tabs or whatever such things they keep records on for these carts. It was all written in hebrew! Coolness! The guy was kinda cute, too. So naturally we had to make a purchase.
Then we came home. We have recently acquired a digital camcorder, and my mother and brother had filmed some of the Powderpuff game. So I watched it on the computer and figured out how to get some stills of off it, which is glorious for me, since you all know how photo-insane I am. I got a number of good stills, including a nice one of me, Amy and Her Majesty the Queen Helene, where Amy is waving at the camera. I enjoy it.
Speaking of pictures! I finished three and a half rolls of film on Friday! Actually, it was two and a half, since I had taken half a roll already, and half a roll is still on my camera. Still, that's one heck of a lot of photos on one day, even for me. But there was a lot to take pictures of.
You see, it was our Powderpuff rally. This meant that we all got up early to get breakfast materials at Dunkin Donuts (wearing our uniforms, mind you. These consist of our game shirts, blue spandex, and red, white and blue bandanas generously given to us by Coah Legere). Then we went to the school to scream and jump about and generally harass people as they came in the front doors. Then we made several mad dashes through the hallways, screaming like a flock of enraged banshees. I noted a number of underclassmen backing away in fear as we approached, hastily stuffing their fingers into their ears.
Then we had class. Madame was wise enough to know that work would be impossible, so in French we watched the good clips of Moulin Rouge, while consorting freely with the equally rebellious Spanish class next door.
In Math we had a quiz, which was a fairly evil thing to make us do that day. I am mostly certain that I failed. I was having issues with that chapter even without throwing Powderpuff into the mix, most of the issues relating to the fact that I kept on falling asleep in class. Damn sleep deprivation. I shall perish of it shortly.
Then English, where our English teacher expressed happiness that we were all psyched up for the game, but nonetheless refusing to be deterred from the lesson plan. So we learned about Aristotle and Arthur Miller and tragedy and tragic flaws and how all of that relates to American Tragedy. See, I do pay attention! Sometimes...
Then Study hall, wherein I ate my lunch with a number of my teammates. We did this because
next period was Lunch. Technically it was Biology, but it is a tradition for Powderpuff players to spend all three lunch periods in the cafeteria. This we did. We chanted our special little Powderpuff chants, we waved our little blue and white pom pom deals, we played annoyingly perky songs on our sound system, and we terrorized pretty much everyone in the cafeteria who had innocently gone to lunch that day, only wanting to eat their food in peace.
Then there was Painting, where I painted. Nothing doing there. Painting is painting.
Then there was Psych, where we had *gasp* another test! Honestly, who has ever heard of such a thing? Two tests on a Powderpuff day? Ridiculous! Infamous! Anyways, this one was much easier than the math one, in part because it was open book, and in part because I can read somewhat quickly, so I was able to complete it in all haste.
Then, a team picture at the end of school.
Later that night, the 50-yard line ceremony, which was actually very nice, and everyone made speeches. I rambled randomly through mine, and I was later informed that I had used some big words, although I had tried not to do so. I also at one point utilized the phrase 'people from all different walks of life', and this apparently engendered some confusion, but really. I mean, come on.
As for the other speeches, I will only say that they were mostly very repetitive but very touching, and also that if I had heard the word 'funnest' one more time that night, I would have most assuredly slain someone.
Then we engaged in some ritual desecration, which was a good time. The weather helped us there. Thank cats for wet fields.
Then I went home and went to sleep.
And then it was Saturday, and we kicked some bums, and I knocked the Behemoth down at one point, all by myself, and it was caught on video for all to see, so no one can refute it. Yes. All by myself, I took out that mammoth being. Ah, sweet, sweet victory!
And, well, you already know what I did today.
Don't you feel so wonderously well-informed right now?
Saturday, November 23, 2002
We won Powderpuff!!!!!
Ha ha ha! The joy cannot be contained! You have no idea how wonderously happy I am. This is beautiful. Simply glorious.
And GUESS WHAT?? I was a right offensive guard, just as I had been practicing, but GUESS WHAT??
I was a STARTER!!
Yes, a starter! As in, I was on the starting offensive line. As in, I got to play a lot. As in, someone out there actually thinks I'm kind of good at football. This was infinitely gratifying to me. After all, as you all know so well, I have previously eschewed all school sports. Yes, no school sports for me, ever. And yet, lo and behold, I get placed on the starting line for Powderpuff. I feel as though for once in the world something has been just.
Hee hee hee. (*happily maniacal laughter*)
So, WE WON!!! 29 to 21. We scored first in the game, and we scored last in the game. Our first touchdown was on our very first possession, which was in-freaking-credible, and probably played a large role in pumping us up for the rest of the game. There was also an awesome safety near the end of the game that pretty much put it out of Marblehead's filthy little reach.
It was quite a good game, and it was dangerously close at points in the middle, but we pulled it off because we were, quite simply, the better team. It is true. There was a lot of hype about how athletic the Marblehead team was, how great their soccer players and track runners and whatnot were. But screw athleticism. We wanted it more. So we won.
(It also was somewhat helpful that all of their 'excellent' soccer players had had no time to practice football, since they were so busy with their precious soccer)
Speaking of hype, one unidentified Marblehead girl sent a lengthy series of IM messages to one of our players. The transcript of this was printed out and read aloud at one of our dinners. It was, shall we say, hilarious.
The girl claimed to have 'done some research', and she said that 'Marblehead's SAT scores are so much better than Swampscott's'. Later in the same communiqué, she referred to the addressee as a 'Sluty McSlutface', which seemed to me to completely void any claim of intelligence that this girl harbored.
(As Liz pointed out, though, our MCAS scores were far superior. So choke on that, Headers!)
At the game, there were a number of Marblehead boys dressed in kilts and no shirts, being generally disruptive and crude, and unimaginative. You see, we call people from Marblehead 'Headers', because it's the end of their town name, and also because we can chant "Headers...... Headers..... You suck!", and it's funny.
So Marblehead, in a most pathetic attempt to be clever by copying our town, now refers to us as 'Scots'. You know. Swampscott. So these fellows were wearing kilts in order to make fun of Scottish people. Although it is really most unfortunate, because I do not think that anyone on our team is at all offended by this, while a number of Marblehead residents seem to take exception to the nomiker 'Headers', especially the 'You suck' chant. Alas for them.
So anywho, I heard that there was something of a tussle between these kilted characters and some excitable Swampscott fans. I saw, at one point, a phalanx of boys in kilts marching towards a contigent of boys carrying a conspicuous Big Blue flag, but then I had a play to attend to, so I missed out on the rest of it. Apparently one of the Marblehead fellows punched a Swampscott-ian, and the police were summoned to the field. Ha ha ha. I laugh.
So, it was an incredibly GLORIOUS time, because we WON and BEAT DOWN MARBLEHEAD LIKE THE DESERVING, TALL-TALKING SCUM THAT THEY ARE, but also because the whole experience was a good time, practices and all. The coaches were great (for the most part), and my fellow teammates were great (for the most part). So, a good time was had by me, and I am happy, for I am VICTORIOUS.
I leave you with a victory lap.
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Hello. I know it's been a while since I blogged last, but school work has been inconceivably evil and that's all that I have to say about that.
Today I went to a sci fi/comic book convention.
It was incredible. For one thing, the sorts of people who showed up for this event... o, it was wonderous. There were two guys in military gear wandering around, which I did not understand. There were some kids in Star Trek uniforms. There was a rather overweight man in tight black vinyl pants. There were people whose hair was infinitely more colorful than mine. There was every sort of shifty, creepy, sketchy person that you could ever imagine. Some of them were just sad, but some of them were funny. It's really kind of hard to describe unless you saw them yourself. Compared to these people, I felt so well-groomed. I mean, it was as though I was the only one there who had actually showered that morning.
And then, of course, there was the convention itself. Dominick Keating (Lt. Malcolm Reed on Enterprise) was there, and he's British, you know. He's kinda cute. I saw him, but the line to get his autograph was enormous, so I didn't bother with that.
Gigi Edgely (Chi'ana from Farscape) was there. She looked like she was my age. It was a little hard to recognize her without the makeup (she's blue on the show), but when she spoke I recognized her voice right away. I felt a little bad for her. There were two enormous lines to meet Dominick Keating and some guy from Buffy, but there were only a few people for her. The best was this enormously fat guy in a green Tshirt who was hanging around her, kind of gazing at her and walking all around her for a while. How freaky can you get?
Anthony Simcoe was also there (D'argo from Farscape). I got my picture taken with him. He was another one that was hard to recognize without the makeup, but the voice was recognizable, and D'argo was also really tall, and he was pretty damn tall. He sounded Austrailian, or something. He was actually really, really nice. We had a lovely little chat, since he wasn't Keating or Mr. Buffy, and therefore did not have an enormous line. He asked my name, and when I told him he got all excited. He said it was 'beautiful' and that he hadn't heard it before (I get that a lot). Then he said he had heard a lot of interesting names this weekend and I said 'I'll bet' and he laughed. Farscape is getting cancelled (*sniff sniff*) but he said he had already been signed for another show, so that's good. But he was a really quite a nice, personable guy and I am quite glad that I met him.
O, this is funny. Before I went up to Anthony Simcoe, I was kind of hanging around the general area. This old guy comes up to him and they started talking. Well, it turned out that the old guy does Antiques Roadshow. He told Anthony Simcoe this, and Anthony started yelling "No! Antiques Roadshow! I was just talking to someone about that show! I love Antiques Roadshow!!!!" It was wicked funny. I mean, come on. The Farscape sci fi actor gets incredibly excited about Antiques Roadshow. I thought it was awesome.
This is the Farscape website, in case you'd like to see what that's all about: Sci Fi's Farscape
There were also a number of comic book artists there. I was looking around. Most of them weren't all that good, and I hadn't heard of most of them. But I saw this one guy whose work looked really familiar to me. I went up to him and started looking at the stuff that he had out on his table, and I realized that I had actually seen his comic book artwork in stores before! I mean, this guy actually was getting published by DC and Marvel! His name is Craig Rousseau. Here's his website, Craig Rousseau.com, where you can see some of his artwork and whatnot, if you so desire.
Anyways, I bought one of his drawings (Batman), and he signed it for me, and he didn't even charge for it, which is insanity at one of these conventions, where they would charge you for breathing if they could. He was also really nice, and we chatted about comic books. He mostly does Batman (that was the stuff of his that I had seen before), and he also did the Batman Beyond stuff, which I thought was very cool, and also Impulse. His work is really nice, it's very stylized and elegant. Very different from a lot of the overblown stuff you'll see out there these days.
I also got the 'I WANT TO BELIEVE' poster. You know. The one that Mulder has hanging in his office. Yes, I got the very same poster. You know you're jealous.
Anyways, the other stuff that was at this convention was truly crazed. They were selling lightsabers for like $300. Sheesh! If the thing is going to cost that much, I want it to be a real lightsaber! Alas, they were not. Rip off.
There were also several booths of real, honest-to-cats swords, knives, axes, and other assorted leather/metal objects of indeterminate function. These booths were creepy. As I'm sure you can well imagine. I'm not entirely sure what weaponry has to do with either sci fi or comic books, but I guess it's just the sort of thing that they break out for every convention like this. This also explained the people in military uniform.
There was a booth of plates painted with Star Trek stuff. There was a plate with the 4 captains on it (Star Trek, Next Generation, Deep Space 9 and Voyager... I guess Enterprise is still too new). This stuff was beyond hideous. I laughed.
There were some Star Trek charicatures that were actually pretty funny. The realistically painted stuff was the very height of cheesiness, though. I cannot imagine buying it. But, you know, there were people there who were buying it.
There was the usual action figures, Tshirts, posters, etc.
There was more, but I must run.
Hee hee hee. I love sci fi/comic book conventions. Good times, good times.
And SO funny.
Sunday, November 10, 2002
Today we are reminiscing about cats that I have known. Excluding my own perfect babies, of course.
Let us begin with Mungo and Teaser. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser, I mean. They are, of course, named after the feline hellions of TS Eliot fame. Teaser does not live up to his name, since he is an enormous fraidy cat. Mungo, however, is quite deserving of his moniker. You see, he enjoys leaving his residence. He is supposed to be an indoor cat. But for a cat of his size (he is a hefty Siamese, although not nearly as hefty as my Izzy), he is remarkably quick and remarkably sneaky. He can hide behind the most unlikely things, like motes of dust on the floor, and then when you least expect it he will charge out of hiding and make a break for the door.
Then there is Rugby, the Abyssinian. I knew him as a kitten. He is a cat now, but I have not seen him in quite some time. Rugby, you know, like the sport. I suppose that he is violent and insane. Like the sport.
There is Dusty, feline insanity extraordinaire. The most schizo cat I have ever known. He can be cuddly and purring one moment, clawing and dashing madly about the next. Some may say that all cats are like this, but I beg to differ. Dusty is quite unique in his craziness.
Then there is Rachel, a gray cat with enormously fluffy fur. She loves to rub foreheads with people. If you put your head anywhere near her, she will dash over and begin rubbing her little face on yours. I have heard that other cats enjoy this manner of tactile communication, but none of mine ever have, so I find it rather novel and endearing.
Then there is Cat-who-gets-high, called by me Bob, although that is probably not his name. I have catmint in my front yard, you see, and the local cats enjoy taking advantage of this planting. One in particular, Bob, used to come by rather often. It would not be unusual to come home and find Bob lying on his back in the middle of the catmint, his eyes half-closed, a blissfully stoned expression on his be-whiskered face.
Then there are the Gay-cats-around-the-corner, whom I have only seen once or twice. They are cats who live around the corner from me. They are male cats. They enjoy each other's company. This is not a platonic feline relationship. Not that there's anything wrong with it, of course. But, you see, I do not know their names or anysuchathing. So they are the Gay-cats-around-the-corner.
Then there are the Baker cats. This is a group of cats of indeterminate number and breed. If I see an unknown cat in the neighborhood, it is standing policy to assume that it is a Baker cat. I am pretty sure that one of them is calico, but other than that I have no definite knowledge as to the exact composition of their population.
Then we have Curtis. Curtis is the fattest cat I have ever known. He was named after Curtis Martin, the football player, and I believe that he may have been attempting to reach the weight of his namesake. But quite seriously, he had an eating disorder. He would eat anything and everything, and he would always be eating. He had no neck. I am serious. This was a cat who was so fat that his body just melded into his head, and he had no visible neck. It was incredible. The last time I heard from him, he was living with a family who were trying to attend to his special dietary needs, and he was losing some weight. But the last time I saw him, he was the most impressively overweight cat I have ever seen.
There are the Current Vet Cats. One of them is named Boo, and is a tiny, adorable little black kitten. I forget the name of the other one at the moment. They both live at the vet's office. They make their living poking their curious little noses into the cat carriers of the patients, occasionally annoying, but usually calming the inhabitants.
There is the Cat-who-used-to-hang-out-in-the-middle-school. This was a gray cat with some Persian ancestry evident in his coat and in his build. This particular cat used to come into the middle school in the winter. Walking through the hallways, you could often come across him, sauntering easily around the building as though he owned it. This cat was greeted with delight by myself and other cat lovers in the school, including the principal, who enjoyed his presence. Students who were allergy-sufferers, alas, were not able to appreciate the school cat as much. I am not sure what happened to him, but I believe that his family began keeping him indoors during the winter.
Then there is Razz. I forget if his name was Razzmatazz or Razzledazzle or what, but I know that he is called Razz. He is a beautiful blue point Siamese with a gloriously long nose and he is so sweet!! I met him when I went to the farm to get my babies. He was a very, very lovey cat. We had a cat carrier with us, and when we set it on the floor and opened it, he clambered right in and sat down. We had a job of it, getting him out again when it was time to leave. I wanted to take him with us, and since he seemed set on going with us, you would think that it was a done deal. Alas, it was not meant to be. We only got the kittens, and all grown cats had to stay. Not that the kittens were at all a bad thing, because kittens are infreakingcredible. But Razz was wonderous as well.
Then there is the Cat-with-the-jowls, who also lived on the farm. He had jowls. I am not kidding. He is the only cat I have ever seen, or even heard of, who has jowls. It was impressive. He was a Siamese, but he was almost entirely dark blue-gray. He was very large and really was quite a majestic-looking animal, except for the jowls, which were extraordinarily startling to see on a cat, and which were really somewhat ridiculous-looking.
Then there's the Deaf Cat. The Deaf Cat used to live somewhere in my neighborhood. I think he lived with my next door neighbors who have since moved away. He used to come over to my backyard and sit on my back deck. We knew that he was deaf because if you said anything to him he would not heed you at all, not even giving you a flick of an ear. But if you stomped a little on the deck he would whip around and glare at you, because he could feel that even if he couldn't hear it. He was black and white.
There are more cats, but my attention span is rather miniscule tonight, so we will end this little period of reminisence. Because I can no longer pay attention to it. Sigh.
Here are some names for cats that I enjoy:
Mr. Jumbly Pin
The Oyster Cat
Ulysses the Intrepid Kitten
General Horatio Gartersnakerus
Zig the Zag
Mr. Mistoffelees (sp?)
Tiberius Othello Spidercrunch
and, of course
The Feline Anarchist (he could be called Ani. Or Fani, if he was a she)
That's the sum of it for tonight.
Friday, November 08, 2002
Greetings once again.
Today in Bio we got to play with fruit flies! It was incredible! The very first lab I've ever done with live animals! I was so excited. The fruit flies were tiny, and we had all kinds... some were the normal 'wild' type (red eyes and big wings), some had vestigial wings, some had white eyes, and some had sepia eyes. The females had stripey bums and the males had black bums.
They were in big tubes, and we had to look at them under the microscope, so we had to put them to sleep. This involved sticking something rather like a one-sided Q-tip into some foul-smelling liquid, and then shoving this implement into the fly tubes. It put them to sleep. They weren't dead, just sleeping. Then we tipped them out of their tubes into a little tray so we could see them under the microscope.
I had fruit flies with white eyes and normal wings.
When we were done looking at them we had to make them a new home (that being a new tube with fresh fly food in it... the food was a bright blue mass of an indeterminate substance). Then we had to get the flies into the tube, but we had to hold the tube sideways so that the flies wouldn't all fall into their food at the bottom, because if they did, they would never leave it. This is what our teacher told us.
So we did that, but it was really hard to transfer tiny flies from a round dish into a horizontally held tube. As a result, I think that we accidently let a few flies out. So now there are some wild fruit flies running around the school, ready to start breeding an enormous colony somewhere in the ventilation system. Oops.
But I don't think anyone can complain that much. After all, there was a hornet's nest in the gym. Maura got stung by one. Then they must have fumigated the gym or somesuchathing, because the next time we were in there we saw dead hornets all over the floor. Delicious.
I have a cold. I hate colds. I hate being sick. I hate it. I hate being stuffed up, I hate being drippy, I hate tissues and I hate medication that knocks you out. As I was knocked out in math class today. I was out cold, fast asleep. It was horrific. Catdamned illnesses.
My Powderpuff name is now officially Holy Cats! With the exclamation mark. Of course. My number is 62, because that is the number of my own personal element. You know.
Powderpuff is an incredible time. I get to hit people all practice long, and no one yells at me. They encourage it! I am right offensive guard, you see. A most glorious position. It involves a lot of hitting and not so much thinking. At our practices we are scrimaging against each other (since playing another team is quite illegal), and the offense is getting really quite angered at the defense. Well, certain players. But you know. Anyways, if we're getting that into it against our own team, just imagine how insane we're going to be against Marblehead. Our dire enemies. Blood will flow freely. At least, I hope so. It will make the game just that much more interesting. I, for my part, will not be at all unhappy if I manage to flatten a few of their players.
So, good times with football.
Speaking of football, I am wildly excited for the Lions/Patriots game this Thanksgiving! Drooling with sheer joy.
I dislike Eminem. Yes, I do.
Well, I must go blow my nose. Catdamned nose. But I am at its beck and call.